Sir Alfred: … I happen to want to celebrate. I want to be seen in your exquisite company. I want the whole world to know that I am the most fortunate of men in the possession of the most magnificent of wives. I want to swim in champagne–and paint the whole town not only red but red, white, and blue! (going toward her) I want everybody to see how much I adore you (taking her by the shoulders and looking at her)–always have adored you, revere you, and trust you. Also how much I hope you have of warmth for me. …

Daphne: But my darling, I worship you.

Sir Alfred: Then put on your most outrageous dress!

Daphne: Shall I wear the purple, with the plumes at the hips?

Sir Alfred: By all means. And let it be a purple lesson to me.

from Unfaithfully Yours.

And of course "too much" here can mean either that I currently possess too much fabric (true) or that this fabric, right here, is too much (also probably true).

This is some Liberty lawn going cheap (so far …) on Ebay. I'm not buying it (see me not buying it? See me reluctantly not buying it?) mostly because I have about seven or eight yards of Liberty en route to me from the UK already and I think if I buy any more there will be a nice man from MI5 showing up at my door with a couple of spiffy gadgets, enquiring gently what one person could actually DO with all this fabric, and wouldn't I like to let him know what my plans for geopolitical domination are, so he can scotch them? (Then, of course, we will have sex, shortly followed by explosions of a different kind. And a car chase. All of which would cut way into my sewing time, so I better cool it.)

I'm also not buying it because it's a bit short, and I've made a vow not to buy any more fabric if I can't get at least three yards of 54" wide, or five yards of anything else. I'm tired of wasting time laying out patterns to find that my fabric is half a yard short. I need that time to actually SEW, dammit, so now, it's five yards or nothing. I don't care how pretty it is. I keep saying "Oh, I'll make a blouse," but I don't really wear blouses. I wear dresses, and I wear t-shirts, and I wear sweaters. I don't wear blouses. I have four blouses half-made and abandoned in my sewing room right this very minute. I have a dozen ready-made blouses hanging in my closet, one or two of which have never been worn. (Sheer black chiffon? What was I thinking? I don't care if it does have a peter-pan collar! I blame H&M Disease, that feverish excitement that comes over you when you're there and leads you to buy unsuitable clothes, thinking that you will magically become the kind of person who wears them. Some people have the household equivalent, Ikea Syndrome, where they feel buying a container with a funny name will magically make them organized.)

Anyway, if you make blouses, or very narrow skirts, this is one heck of a print. I wish I knew the name of it as I will be looking out for more … about three yards more.

I don't know why I always start looking around at party dresses after Halloween. It's not really as if I am the belle of the galas, and I already have enough fancy dresses to meet Brooke Astor's schedule. However, if YOU need fancy dresses for holiday parties, you might want to start with this one. First of all, it's only $42! (A Buy It Now on eBay.)

It's in great condition and a good small-modern size: B34/W29/H38. And I love the unexpected yellow and brown print … I am so bored with black holiday party dresses. I know, I know, it's slimming, and it's wearable party after party, but that's because nobody remembers it. "Oh, remember the woman in the black dress?" "Which one?" Now, "Remember the woman in that yellow dress?" "Oh, sure …" If you buy middle-level vintage, you can have three or four nice party dresses, one-of-a-kind party dresses, for the price of one midrange new party dress. And the vintage will have better design and better fabric and if you spill red wine on it, well, you have two more in the closet!

Wear this one with brown satin shoes and a brown satin clutch and a necklace of big vulgar barbaric yellow CZs, if you can find one.

I'm going to hold off on this pattern and hope for it to show up in the next size up, even though I think it's pure genius and I could certainly go up from a B34 to a B36.

It's from FuzzyLizzie's Vintage Patterns, and even if you aren't a fan of Halston, go there right now. Seriously. She has tons of Mary Quant! She has older Dior! She has Betsey Johnson! And all at very, very reasonable prices (under $20, for the most part). There's a 50s dress in particular with a scalloped detail that goes across the front and *over onto the back shoulder* that I think is worth three times what's she's charging.

Anyway, back to Mr. Halston. In a weak moment (aren't they all?) I bought some bright magenta knit fabric that just screams for a minimally-seamed 1970's dress to set it off (although how I'd do the facings that must be required for this neckline in knit I'm not sure … maybe it's self-lined? That would work …). I think this one would be excellent. You can control the plunge of the neckline and the length of the skirt and there are no goddamn Bishop sleeves to deal with. (I hate Bishop sleeves, what a lot of trouble for something so unpleasant to wear and look at!)

The only thing I don't like about this dress is that there are no side seams, so there is nowhere to put a pocket unless I put it in the underbust seam, and if I'm going to put a pocket there I might as well carry money around in my bra. And the knit I'm thinking about won't support a patch pocket (which would also ruin the line of the dress). Ah, well, on to the next candidate.

Isn't this a cute dress from Revamp Vintage? Thank La Bella Donna for pointing us all toward their site.

This dress, from their 1930s collection, is really adorable, and I say this as an avowed opponent of puff sleeves. Not that I haven't worn them myself, it's just I always regret it later, much like eating Cool Ranch Doritos.

Anyway, it's $150, they make them in limited runs, click on the picture, blah blah blah.

Now for the rant, which the Revamp site reminded me of. Revamp, helpfully, has sections on vintage makeup and hairstyles, so you can get the complete look. I have nothing against the complete look, but I personally prefer to wear my vintage in a completely ahistorical manner. (Not to mention that achieving a totally vintage look is HARD.)

In addition to the 'how-to-do-you-get-a-finger-wave" stuff, Revamp also provides little histories of each era for which they make clothes, thumbnail overviews, really, just in case someone can't quite remember when WWII was. From their 1950s overview: "Certainly some women [giving up work outside the home after the war] were reluctant to give up their newly found sense of independence, but many women were happy to take up their traditional roles again. … The main image for women was of demure femininity suitable for the sober role of motherhood." Now, there are certain arguments that can be made about how the role of homemaker and full-time mother was one that was not really possible for any but a very limited class of women before the 1950s, and, of course, whenever you see the word "many," the natural reaction is to say "HOW many, and how do you know?" But it's (I remind myself) just a quick sketch of a complicated era, put up to sell clothes.

All that aside, I get tremendously irked (here's the rant coming, fair warning) when someone thinks that just because I'm wearing a 1950s dress, I have 1950s thoughts, and espouse the values that are (usually erroneously) attributed to that era. Anyway, excuse my language, but fuck that noise.

I wear 1950s styles for aesthetic reasons, not ideological ones. I just like the way they look. I don't think that a full skirt correlates at all with a desire for women not to work outside the home, for instance. Or that my fondness for little cardigan sweaters, with or without pearls, should be taken as an indication that I disapprove of premarital sex, or that a Peter Pan collar signals "Hey, love those Jim Crow laws!" I know that some people wear vintage as part of a greater push toward recapturing what they consider to be some golden age, but, really, the past mostly sucked. So I don't really understand idealizing that time, no matter how aesthetically pleasing the clothes and cars were.

This correlation of clothes and ideology seems to be tighter for the 1950s, by the way. If you show up in some 1930s silk bias evening gown, nobody assumes that you're pro-Hitler. A cloche hat doesn't signify any opinion, either way, on Prohibition. A 1940s dress isn't read as a silent vote for internment camps. But put on a June Cleaver-ish dress, and all of a sudden you're a sergeant in the June Cleaver Attitude Readjustment & Nostalgia Army.

Thanks but no thanks. I don't want to return to some supposedly more genteel era (all my time-machine fantasies involve me going back, buying out a few department stores after betting on the Kentucky Derby winner, and returning hot-foot to the present day with my trophies). I like it here just fine, thanks, what with the Internet and stay-at-home dads and contraception and cell phones and integration and jetpacks and all. Oh, wait, I forgot that we don't have jetpacks yet. But when we do I'm gonna be wearing a nice full skirt with mine. And possibly pearls.

I suggest you add this eBay seller your favorites list, because … look at this scan! Perfect, high-res, great detail — AND she scans the backs of the patterns so you can see the pattern pieces and the fabric requirements! ::love::

I adore the bodice on this one. Those gathers aren't as hard to sew as you might think, because (next suggestion) you can brute-force the flat piece over the gathers with the topstitching.

I also (and does this even warrant mentioning?) love the pockets. I do not, however, love the skirt, which requires you (in the mode of the times) to have dispensed with such trivial things as hips. (If you are naturally tall and slender, though, instead of shortish and roundish as I am, this is the dress for you!)

If this weren't B32 I would be strongly tempted to buy it and (another suggestion) change the skirt to a more forgiving A-line. In fact, (last few suggestions I promise) think of an A-line skirt with a center gore mirroring the triangle of the bodice … think of that bodice in handkerchief linen … (absolutely, positively last suggestion) click on the image to see the eBay auction — it only has a day or two to run. And it's a Canadian seller, so … cheap!

Isn't this amazing? (Thanks, Mary Beth!) It's not for sale, but click on the image to read the story behind its acquisition and a long train of admiring comments.

It's beaded, so I can't even imagine how much it weighs. Or how many hours it took to make … I think I am content to admire it from afar, instead of wanting to wear it (or even have one) myself. Everything I've ever had that was beaded started shedding beads the moment it crossed my threshold. I evidently have some special bead-loosening power. Don't worry, I only use it for good, not for evil.

I adore that color (as I think I've mentioned before). In fact, today I am wearing not only a teal sweater but teal tights. With an A-line skirt that is a Liberty print of orange dots and red stars. (I am demented, yes, I am. Thanks for noticing.) But somehow it works … at least, I think it works. I'm still waiting on the independent verification team.

Just a quick note for any Oak Park, Illinois peeps — if you are free tonight, I can't imagine why you wouldn't go see Mary Beth Klatt talk about vintage wedding dresses at the Historical Society of Oak Park and River Forest. Details here.

I'd be there but I'm out of town.

This dress is from Isadoras.com and is, sadly, already sold. They have a couple more, though, if orange blossoms are in your future.

Another wonderful dress from Madelene (thanks!) who helpfully points out it has no pockets. Sigh. However, the skirt is full enough that you could reverse-engineer some in, if you were so inclined.

From Robin Clayton Vintage, it's only $70, and is B36. There's a ton of other stuff on that site — great stuff! — and I had a hard time making up my mind which dress to post from there and will probably be returning to that well.

I'm not sure why I'm so obsessed with teal lately. I know it's the color of the season and all, but I'm not usually so in tune with our Pantone Overlords. All I know is that lately anything teal (sweaters, scarves, tights, ducks) catches my eye and holds on to it, hard. Which is probably why I have roughly ten (possibly fifteen) yards of teal fabric in varying weights and prints waiting to be sewn up. It's akin to the great Candy-Pink Reign of Terror I experienced in 2003 …

Now I just need to find teal eyeglasses, and I'll be all set to be the teal equivalent of the crazy purple-wearing lady. [warning, link to FARK, not safe for work, keyboards, or faith in mankind.]

Check out this incredible 1930s abstract-plaid dress at TangerineBoutique.com. Now, that's what I call plaid. None of your sissy "Black Watch" or "Campbell," nosirree. This is a plaid that is expending all its considerable energy giving a big "oh yeah?" to the Depression.

It's only $68, and it's a "generous medium" according to the proprietor: "The bust measures 38" the waist 31" and the hips 40". The length of the skirt is just over 27" and the back bodice measures 16" from neck to waist." Tangerine Boutique goes on to say "It would work very well on a tall frame." To which I say, "Well, yeah! It's from the 1930s! They euthanized short people then."

It's got (you can't really see it in the picture) a cute little sailor tie around the neck, too. And, of course, pockets. Go get it before the bank comes to take the farm.